


A Flock of Wolves

by RussellEppLeppel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Humor, Rebellion, Rebels, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussellEppLeppel/pseuds/RussellEppLeppel
Summary: What would you do if you suddenly found yourself as spymaster in an underground resistance? And what if everyone in it was of questionable loyalty or too dumb to be trusted with anything sharper than a loaf of bread, or both?This is exactly what has happened to Phil Shepherd. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time one day, and the next thing he knew, he was the new leader of the Resistance. Now he wants nothing more than to return to his normal boring life, but first he must evade the military police, determine who’s spying on whom, and expel the foreign invaders from his homeland, all while babysitting his own followers. Can he regain some sense of normality, or will he go eight ways crazy before then, assuming he doesn’t catch a knife in the back first?





	1. Chapter 1

_Phil Shepherd is not interesting. Phil Shepherd is a prosaic dullard. Unfortunately, by a contrivance of fate, or sheer bad luck, depending what you believe in, he is the man around which this narrative unfolds. He is the little cellophane-wrapped toothpick in a club sandwich: stiff, wooden, and uninteresting. Although ultimately of little importance to the consumer, he is the one at the center holding everything together, and when it is all over he will be cast aside, discarded and forgotten. Because that’s the kind of person he is. Phil Shepherd is the least interesting man in the world._

Commandant Tanner was strolling the stalls of the dingy market outside his office building. The people called him Tanner the Tyrant. Not to his face, obviously. To his face they had to call him Sir. Such was life for the people of the city of Upsington under Ausnian occupation. He stopped next to a fruit stand.  
“Give me an apple!” He ordered. The merchant had no choice but to obey. “And give me a knife to cut it.” Tanner added.  
“I’m sorry Sir.” The merchant said. “I don’t got no knife.” Tanner looked around, and his gaze fixed on Phil, who was just then passing the fruit stand.  
“You!” He shouted, pointing at Phil. Phil looked over each shoulder, searching for the person the commandant was speaking to. Then he realised it was him. He pointed to himself, raising his eyebrows with doubt.  
“Yes you.” Tanner barked. “Give me your knife.” Phil obliged, reaching into his pocket and handing Tanner his pen knife. Tanner sliced up his snack and began to nibble one of the green wedges. His gaze met Phil’s.  
“You want something?” Tanner asked angrily.  
“Um, er.” Phil ummed and erred. “I’d like my knife back.” He said meekly.  
“You what!?” Tanner shouted, flying into a rage as half-masticated apple flew from his mouth, and a drop of spittle landed on Phil’s cheek. This outburst drew the attention of a woman pretending to read a newspaper across the street.  
“I’d like my knife back.” Phil said in a barely audible squeak.  
“It’s my knife now!” Tanner shouted, growing red. “Do you know who I am!?” He gestured towards himself, pointing with the blade. “I could have your head for such a question! Right now! Why I oughta-” Tanner didn’t get to finish that last thought. He stepped menacingly towards the shrinking citizen. His boot splashed down in the mud from the morning’s storm, and its smooth sole found no traction. Tanner’s feet shot from beneath him, and he toppled forward, landing on Phil’s knife. The blade punched effortlessly into his throat, and he bled to death before anyone could react. Phil could only stand there and gawk at what had just transpired, and at the body which lay at his feet.  
This would be a very bad time for two Ausnian MP’s to be patrolling by. Unfortunately, two Ausnian MP’s were patrolling by. Seeing their commandant laying face down in the mud, they rushed to investigate. One rolled Tanner’s body over in the mud and wrenched the knife from his throat.  
“He’s dead.”  
“Show us your ID!” The other MP demanded of Phil. Phil’s hand shook as he rummaged in his pocket, but he obediently produced the documentation.  
“Philip Shepherd?” The MP asked.  
“Yes.” Phil answered.  
“Then this is your knife?” The first MP said, reading ‘P. Shepherd’ on one of the handle scales. Phil had written it on the knife in magic marker at his mother’s insistence, in case he should ever lose it.  
“You stabbed him!” The second MP accused.  
“No, he fell on it!” Phil shrieked in protest.  
“A likely story!” The first MP said. “You killed him!” Both MP’s raised their shiny black truncheons.  
“RUN!” Came a shout from across the street. Phil’s brain went into panic mode and rational thought ceased. He heard run, and run he did. He tore down the muddy street and into the first alley he reached. The woman, who had until recently been pretending to read a newspaper, quietly disappeared into a nearby building.  
Phil ran down the alley. It turned right. He darted around the corner and kept sprinting. He could hear the shouts and heavy footsteps of the MP’s who were now chasing him. The alley turned left now. Phil took the corner a bit too sharply and skidded sideways over the mud and slammed hard into the wall of a building. His head smacked into the brickwork and he saw stars. He could still faintly hear his shouting pursuers over the ringing in his ears, so he ran ahead before his vision could fully return. He ran straight into a high wooden fence, flattening his face on the planks, but the pain was nothing compared to the dread when he realized he’d run down a dead end! Just as it seemed he was done for, the emergency exit of the building next to him swung open. In the doorway stood a slightly overweight woman with bright red hair and a newspaper tucked under her arm.  
“Quick, get in!” She coaxed. Seeing no better option, Phil complied. “Follow me.” She spoke. Again, Phil complied. The woman shut the door behind them just before the MP’s rounded the corner, ending their pursuit.  
“Thanks for saving me back there.” Phil said once he’d caught his breath.  
“It was my pleasure.” She said, leading him out a side door and into another back alley. “I can’t wait to introduce you to the resistance.” She said with excitement. “I’m in the super-secret resistance, by the way.”  
“I’m sorry.” Phil shook his head, attempting to reset the situation in his mind. “Who are you?”  
“My name’s not important.” She said. “We’re here.” Phil looked up. They were standing in front of a small church. A giant hole gaped in the roof, no doubt a remnant of the artillery strike from when the Ausnian Empire had first invaded four years ago. The woman led Phil inside, and on the wall he saw one of those big paper fundraising thermometer posters. Two more pieces of butcher paper had been tacked to the wall above it and coloured red as well. The pair went down into the building’s basement. Phil was shocked to see dozens of other people, all huddled in secrecy.  
“This is the resistance!” She said. There was a long pause. “Well?” The woman coaxed. “Say hello.”  
“Um, hi.” Phil said. “I’m Phil.”  
“Hi Phil!” The crowd replied in near perfect unison.  
“He killed Tanner the Tyrant!” The woman shouted excitedly. Cheers erupted from the crowd. A short, pudgy man in the back whom Phil assumed to be the pastor stood and shouted.  
“The Almighty has sent us a new leader!” He declared, and a new cry of excited agreement rose from the rebels.  
“What!?” Phil said in stunned shock. “I don’t want to be a leader!”  
“The Almighty has spoken!” The pastor shouted, and the crowd seemed to agree with him. Phil clearly had no say in the matter if the Almighty was concerned. Two of the larger resistance members approached and lofted Phil onto their shoulders, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling.  
“What even happened to your old leader?” Phil asked.  
“Oh, the pigs caught him and he was executed.” One of the two answered nonchalantly.  
“But that doesn’t matter anymore!” The other shouted. “You’re our leader now!” Phil felt a lump grow in the back of his throat. He was regretting being accused of murder already.


	2. Chapter 2

The two large rebels lowered Phil back to the floor as the panic began to visibly set in. His feet touched the linoleum, but his legs called it quits. He fell down, sprawled on his back, staring up at the stucco.  
“Oh God, they’re going to kill me.” He murmured. “They’re going to kill me. They have my ID. They know my name, what I look like. I am so dead. I’m dead; they’re going to kill me.” He descended quickly to hysterics as the crowd closed in around him, gawking and making him increasingly claustrophobic.  
“It’s okay.” One of the rebels said reassuringly. “We can disguise you.” Then she looked around. “Does anybody have a disguise?” There came a few murmurs that were less than reassuring before another rebel spoke up.  
“Father, do you have something upstairs he could wear?”  
“I might have something in the back.” The pastor said, then he disappeared to conduct his search. By the time he returned, Phil had regained some of his composure and had been helped to a chair where he sat sipping water from a paper cup. He was being introduced to some of the rebels as the pastor handed him a hooded brown robe.  
“And this is Father Grigori Richards.” The rebel making the introductions said, as Phil pulled the coarse fabric over his head. The hem of the garment reached the floor. “He’s been generous enough to let us use his church as our secret base for the past few years.”  
“Oh, a kindly deed is its own reward.” Father Richards said modestly. He inspected Phil in his new disguise as the poor schlub pulled the hood up. “Hmmm, it obscures your eyes, but we can still see your face pretty well.”  
“Jeff, run out and buy something he can wear on his face.” A rebel spoke, and another rebel whom Phil presumed to be Jeff headed out. “I’m John by the way, master sp-” He stopped short. “Plumber.”  
“What’s a splumber?” Phil asked, adjusting his new costume.  
“Oh don’t pay any attention to him.” A bleach blonde woman interjected. “John just pretends to be an Ausnian spy so people will think he’s interesting.”  
“Are you sure he’s not actually a spy?” Phil asked with concern.  
“Absolutely.” The woman said confidently. “No spy could be that bad at lying.”  
“John, be honest.” Phil said. “Are you a spy?”  
“No.” John said quickly. “Of course that’s just what a spy would say isn’t it? Maybe I am a spy!” He chuckled at the thought. “Wouldn’t that be cool, being all mysterious and exotic, international man of intrigue? I could wear a tuxedo and drink martinis and shag loads and loads of birds! You know what? Yes. Yes I am a spy!” He said excitedly.  
“I’m Mindy.” She introduced herself. “I’ve been stationed here for about eighteen months, so I’ve seen some things.”  
“Nice to meet you Mindy.” Phil said politely. Just then a knock came at the door. Everybody with the exception of Phil and Father Richards hid. The pastor gestured for Phil to hide as well. Phil looked around, but all the good hiding spots had been taken, as well as plenty of the bad ones. Two rebels had hidden under a table, and a third one had even taken the tablecloth off and hid under it, standing in the center of the room like a child in a ghost costume on Halloween. Another was hiding behind a standing lamp she was foot wider than. Phil’s brain strained to comprehend the level of idiocy this resistance seemed to be on, but quickly gave up. Seeing no better alternatives, Phil pulled the hood down low over his face and sat very still. The knocking came again, but this time followed by a voice.  
“Guuuys, let me in.” The voice whined. “I forgot the secret knock.” Father Richards peered out through a small peephole.  
“It’s okay, just Jeff.” He announced. Jeff entered as everyone emerged from their nominal hiding positions. He approached Phil and handed him a small object in a plastic bag with ‘Costume Palace’ printed on it.  
“This was all they had for under two quid.” Jeff said, somewhat apologetically. Phil removed the item and examined it. It was a set of plastic glasses with the fake moustache and eyebrows. He sighed, but wore them anyway with a look of resignation.  
“Hey, where’d our leader go!?” Jeff said, looking around the way one would to fool a young child.  
“Don’t patronize him!” Mindy snapped, punching Jeff in the shoulder. “Or I’ll pull your eyes out!”  
“It’s alright.” Phil said, completely defeated. His spirit was broken by sudden responsibility and total lunacy. “I just want to go home.” He adjusted the glasses to tickle less and pulled up his hood.  
“You can’t!” Mindy said. “That’s the first place they’d look for you.” This was the most sensible and intelligent thing anyone had said to Phil since he’d arrived, and he was forced to agree with her. “Father, is it okay if Phil lays low here with you for a few days, maybe a week or two?” She asked.  
“I’d love his company.” Father Richards said warmly.  
“Then it’s settled.” Mindy declared.  
“Not quite.” Phil said. “I live with my mum. Can I at least tell her I won’t be home for a little while and where I’m staying?”  
“No.” Mindy shook her head. “It’s too risky for you to leave, and your location should be on a strictly need-to-know basis.”  
“Can I at least call and tell her I’m alright?” Phil pleaded. “She’ll throw a fit otherwise.”  
“We’ll send her a message letting her know you’re safe.” Mindy conceded. “John, see to it.”  
“Yes, I’ll go send an intelligence report, er, I mean a message to your mother.” John said very suspiciously, then winked and shuffled off.  
“Way too obvious.” Mindy assured Phil. There came another knock at the door. Everyone rushed to find hiding places, and many of these were somehow even lazier than the previous batch. Phil made no effort to hide this time. He figured if anyone recognized him in this ridiculous get-up he’d rather be shot anyway. After about two minutes of perfect silence, Father Richards opened the door. A woman entered with a retriever mix on a leash.  
“Ah, the resistance’s first member.” Father Richards greeted them. “Drumstick!”  
“Hang on.” Phil said. “Don’t you have a secret knock?”  
“Yes.” Father Richards answered. “That was it.”  
“That was it?” Phil parrotted in confusion. “Knock three times and wait?”  
“Yeah.” Mindy said. “No one’s going to knock then stand around waiting for two minutes. They’re either going to knock again or leave.” Phil felt like the logic employed here in the resistance was kicking his brain in the testicles. He screamed, causing many of the rebels to jump.  
“What’s wrong?” One of them asked.  
“You don’t know me. I don’t know any of you.” Phil stammered.  
“Glorious Leader, I don’t understand.” The resistance member said.  
“No, you don’t!” Phil shrieked. “And neither do I! I don’t know what going on here! Nobody knows what’s going on!” Phil cried again. “Nobody knows what’s going on!” A confused silence followed. Father Richards was the one to break it.  
“Who’d like to buy an indulgence from the church?” He said, in the way one would make a sales pitch. Many members, not knowing what else to do, flocked to him, demanding he take their money. Phil was left alone in his chair, where he quietly broke down sobbing.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dramatis Personæ_

Phil: schlub, least interesting man in the world, new leader of the resistance  
Mindy: sensible albeit violent member of the resistance  
Father Richards: pastor and businessman  
John: a “spy” who is very bad at his job  
Jeff: well-meaning but dumb rebel  
Drumstick: mascot and one of the original members of the resistance, also a dog

“Um, Glorious Leader?” One of the rebels timidly spoke.  
“Yeah?” Phil said, looking up and wiping the tears from his eyes.  
“Well, what now?” The rebel asked.  
“I dunno.” Phil shrugged. “What were you doing before I got here?”  
“Looking for a new leader.” The rebel answered. Phil sighed heavily. He should have seen that one coming.  
“Well, before that I mean.” Phil clarified.  
“Oh, mourning the loss of our old leader.” The rebel said, and Phil rolled his eyes. He really should have seen that one coming.  
“Well what did he do!?” Phil asked, growing frustrated.  
“Erm, die.” The rebel answered succinctly. Phil really really should have seen that one coming. As penance, he began to smash his head against the wall. Maybe things would start to make sense that way. The rebel had to pull him away from the wall before he hurt himself.  
“So, what’s your name?” Phil asked the man.  
“Chris Cross.” He answered.  
“That is the worst alias I’ve ever heard.” Phil said bluntly.  
“It’s not an alias; it’s my real name.” The rebel allegedly named Chris said.  
“I believe that even less.” Phil said.  
“I think perhaps what our glorious leader requires at present is a bit of context.” A rebel who had been introduced as Roger suggested. “How about you come with me through the city, Glorious Leader? Chris, you can accompany us in the event that things get rough. Mindy, stay here and you’ll be in charge until we get back.”  
“Hey, Phil’s supposed to be the one giving orders!” Mindy protested, kicking Roger hard in the shin.  
“Um, okay.” Phil said. “Roger, show me around. Chris, come with us. Mindy, stay here and be in charge.”  
“Of course, Sir.” Mindy said bitterly, punching the wall.  
Phil, wearing his foolproof disguise, departed with Chris and Roger. The latter led the small group through the city streets until they arrived outside a large white stone building with impressive columns and a domed roof.  
“Do you know what this building is?” Roger asked.  
“It’s City Hall.” Phil said, happy to actually know something for once.  
“And home to the puppet government.” Roger said darkly.  
“I think you’re confused.” Phil said. “It’s the provisional government.”  
“Do you know who appointed the provisional government?” Roger asked.  
“Uhm.” Phil said.  
“The Ausnian occupiers.” Roger informed him. “The pigs control who’s in the city government, so they control the government, those filthy fascist sympathizers. If an official says or does something they disapprove of, that’s the last time that official says anything. This building, the people inside it, and what it all stands for is nothing more than a cruel façade. Make no mistake, the Ausnians still rule, and anyone they rule through is a conspirator, a traitor to their own people. Smash the system!” He shouted.  
“My god.” Phil said. “How could I have been so ignorant?”  
“No one ever told you.” Roger said, placing a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “And there are thousands of others, just like you, that have never been told either.”  
“Well we should tell them!” Phil said. “Roger, can you put together a team of people to go through the city and spread the word?”  
“If I may make a suggestion Glorious Leader.” Roger said. “Why not make a statement? Why not deface this fascist façade, and tear the mask off the illusion? Reveal the revolting truth, the truth to cause revolt, and spark the fires of revolution!”  
“Huh?”  
“Vandalise City Hall.” Roger repeated in layman’s terms.  
“Oh.” Phil said. “Yeah I guess that works too.”  
“Excellent.” Roger hissed. “I’ll put together a team for you.” Just then, a man who’d been standing on the street corner watching them in front of the city building ran over. He wore a patchy trenchcoat and a folded hat made from the Daily Courier.  
“Icthyans walk among us! They run the secret world government!” The crazed man shouted.  
“Crazy Dave, it’s good to see you again.” Roger said warmly. “What are those evil icthyans conspiring about now?”  
“Oooh, something big.” Crazy Dave giggled. “One of their knights has been killed, and now they're talking to their vassals.”  
“What’s an icthyan?” Phil asked.  
“You know what a reptilian is?” Crazy Dave said, leaning close.  
“Yeah?”  
“Well like that, but fish.” Crazy Dave explained.  
“You think fish run the government?” Phil chuckled.  
“Not fish. Fish-people.” Crazy Dave squinted suspiciously. Phil pulled his hood down further and adjusted his plastic glasses.  
“Ignore the simpleton.” Chris advised Phil.  
“Simple!?” Crazy Dave scoffed. “I’ve got a doctorate!”  
“Really? In what?” Phil asked.  
“Art history.” Crazy Dave answered.  
“Ah, that explains it.” Phil nodded.  
“Hey, the classical painters knew about the icthyans. Da Vinci knew about them. He hid it in some of his works! That’s how I know!” Crazy Dave argued.  
“I think it’s time we head back.” Roger said, and the group departed.  
“What was that all about?” Phil asked. “What did Crazy Dave mean by knights and vassals?”  
“The knight who died was Tanner, whom you killed, thank you again for that, and the vassals are the puppet government. Crazy Dave may be crazy, but he’s good for reconnaissance. Now we know the occupiers are sending the puppets after you.”  
“You trust a crazy person?”  
“He’s nuts, but he’s not a liar.” Roger said. “When you’re fighting in a rebellion, you gotta know how to use people. I’m using Crazy Dave as a spy.”  
“Is he okay with that?” Phil asked, concerned for the vagrant.  
“He doesn’t even know.” Roger answered. “And that’s for the best. For everyone.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Dramatis Personæ_

Phil: crash course civics student in a class size of one, salutatorian  
Roger: passionately wordy member of the resistance, rebel spy  
Mindy: prefers to let her fists to do the talking, and they are of unmatched eloquence  
Father Richards: researching volumetric analysis and camel/needle eye interface  
John: a “spy” who is very bad at his job  
Jeff: as sharp as a bowling ball, and twice as dense  
Drumstick: the watcher, the vigilant, the voice that barks in the night  
Chris Cross: improbably named rebel  
Crazy Dave: homeless conspiracy theorist, unwitting spy for Roger

Roger assembled his team of vandals for Phil and sent them out to deface City Hall in the dead of night. They had requested ‘sleek, dark blue ninja outfits’, but Jeff had only been able to find one-piece coveralls in a charming shade of eggshell blue. He had also been sent to purchase a bucket of red paint, but yellow was on sale for 50% off, so he purchased two cans of that instead.  
Although Roger was intelligent and passionate, these are not the best traits for someone to possess if they’re to generate a pithy quote. Roger’s wordiness had led him to give his team of three a somewhat awkwardly long phrase to paint on the side of the building. Still, being loyal followers of their Glorious Leader and master Phil (and Roger giving orders by proxy), they did their best to transcribe his words. Once they had finished, the trio stepped back to check their work. On the side of City Hall, in three foot high letters they had painted their slogan.  
_Our traitorous occupier’s allies are our enemies, they are not to be trusted, and people with a traitorous mind should run further than the resistance and it’s people can reach._  
“So wait, are the occupiers traitorous, or are their allies traitorous, because if their allies are traitorous, isn’t that good for us?” Tim asked.  
“No, their allies are traitorous, but traitorous to us, not the occupiers.” Tom clarified.  
“Okay, because if they were traitorous to the occupiers then we’d just be warning our enemies not to trust their allies.” Tim said.  
“Don’t we want them not to trust their allies, you know, sow the seeds of discord?” Ted asked.  
“Not if their allies are traitorous.” Tim said.  
“They are traitorous.” Ted said.  
“They’re traitorous to us, not their allies.” Tom said.  
“So wait the occupiers are the traitors, but not to their allies?” Ted said.  
“No no, the allies are traitorous to us, not the occupiers, and the occupiers are not to be trusted.” Tom said.  
“I thought the traitorous allies were not to be trusted.” Tim said.  
“No, the occupiers are the traitorous allies, and we want them not to trust their allies.” Ted said.  
“So the allies aren’t traitorous, and are to be trusted?” Tim asked.  
“No, the allies are to be trusted, but they’re traitors.” Tom said.  
“Why would you trust someone you know is a traitor?” Ted asked.  
“Only we know the allies are traitors, and we want the occupiers to trust them.” Tim said.  
“Then why are we warning the occupiers that their allies are traitors?” Ted asked.  
“I think we need to figure out who this nebulous ‘they’ is in the second part.” Tom spoke up.  
“Well it’s separated by a comma, so it’s still referring to the subject of the sentence in the first part, which is the allies.” Tim said.  
“No, the allies are the direct object; the occupiers are the subject.” Ted corrected.  
“No, the direct object receives the action from the subject.” Tom said.  
“Hang on a moment, how many occupiers are there? More than one?” Tim asked.  
“Yes, why?” Ted answered.  
“Because the apostrophe in ‘occupier’s’ should be at the end then, since it’s plural possessive.” Tim said.  
“There are multiple occupiers but one occupying force, and that force is the singular occupier.” Tom said.  
“Then why is the second part the plural ‘they’?” Ted asked.  
“Well obviously because it refers to the allies, which is why it follows a comma.” Tim said.  
“Actually, I think this is a comma splice. The comma should correctly be a semicolon.” Tom said.  
“No, it’s definitely a comma, because it’s a list of things, since it has an ‘and’.” Tim said.  
“You’re both wrong. The first comma is wrong, and the second part is just two independent clauses joined by a comma followed by a conjunction. The second part is therefore unrelated to the first part, but rather to the third part, the bit about the mind of the people.” Ted voiced.  
“Oh, so the people are of one mind?” Tim asked.  
“Absolutely.” Ted said.  
“No, you fool. It’s not a singular mind; the mind is singular because each individual only has one.” Tom said.  
“But if there’s more than one individual, don’t we need the plural minds, since there’d be more than one of those too?” Ted said.  
“And shouldn’t it be farther?” Tim interrupted.  
“What?” Tom asked.  
“Farther, not further.” Tim said.  
“What’s the difference?” Tom asked.  
“Well, further refers to a greater degree or amount. Farther is distance.” Ted explained.  
“Hey, that ‘it’s’ shouldn’t have an apostrophe. Right now it says ‘the resistance and it is people’.” Tom said.  
“It is people, the resistance that is.” Tim replied.  
“No, the resistance is made of people, but it’s more of an idea, you see. You can’t kill an idea.” Tom said.  
“Yeah, but ideas don’t get apostrophes. It should be ‘its’, not ‘it’s’.” Ted said.  
“What’s ‘it’?” Tim asked.  
“‘It’s’ is it.” Tom said.  
“‘It is’ is it?” Ted said.  
“Is it?” Tim said.  
“It is.” Tom said.  
“Well this is just a piece of graffiti, so does it really matter?” Tim pointed out.  
“Strictly speaking this is a graffito.” Ted said.  
“Oh, in that case, let’s do it properly.” Tim said.  
“Alright, that’s it.” Tom said. “We’ll just have to paint over the whole thing and try again tomorrow.” The trio began painting over their vandalism and giving the whole wall of coat of cheery yellow.  
“And let’s be quick about it.” Ted added. “Not that you guys aren’t the sort of people I want to hang out with, but if a guard sees us we’d be lucky to be hung. Probably be burnt at the stake.”  
“Hanged.“ Tom corrected, still spreading his paint. “Though we’d be lucky to be hung too.”  
“What’s the difference?” Ted asked.  
“You’re hung like a horse.” Tim said as he carefully painted around the edge of a window. “You’re hanged like a horse thief. Also, you’re ending a sentence with a preposition.”  
“Am I?” Ted said.  
“Sure, ‘the sort of people I want to hang out with’.” Tom spoke. “It should be ‘with whom I want to hang out’.”  
“Actually, I think it’d be ‘out with whom I’d like to hang’.” Tim pondered. “And you mean to say burned when you say burnt at the stake.”  
“What’s the difference there?” Tom asked.  
“Burnt is the adjective; burned is the past tense of the verb.” Tim said. “Unless you’re describing the state of our bodies at the stake, you want burned.”  
“No, I’m definitely sure they’re both verb past tenses that can be used as an adjective.”  
“That’s it; after this, we’re going to the library!” Tom declared.  
“Hey you!” A patrolling night watchman sudden cried. He looked at the wall, evenly coated in a fresh coat of bright yellow paint, and back at the trio wearing blue painter’s coveralls. “Did you do this?”  
“Um.” Tim said.  
“Err.” Tom said.  
“I-uh.” Ted said.  
“No?” Tim guessed.  
“No need to be modest!” The guard said kindly. “You’ve done excellent work. This building’s needed a fresh coat of paint for years! Come with me, I need to show the governor his city’s newest heroes.” Not knowing what else to do, the rebels followed him, and were introduced to the governor, who it turns out was working late that night.  
The next morning they returned to the resistance headquarters and reported on the good news.  
“You what!?” Roger snapped at his followers of Phil.  
“Well we got a bit caught up in the grammar of the statement, so we had to paint over it and try again.” Tim explained.  
“That’s it.” Roger said. “From now on, no more than one language major to a guerilla cell.”  
“Then the watchman came by, and he thought we were repainting the wall.” Tom continued.  
“He introduced us to the governor, and the governor was so excited he wants to give us all medals!” Ted said happily.  
“Ugh.” Phil sighed and rolled his eyes. Mindy slapped Tim on the head for him.  
“Actually, we may be able to turn this to our advantage.” Roger said as the wheels in his head began to turn.  
“Ooh, are we going to show up and sing a scathing song of protest?” Tim asked.  
“No, we’re going to do something effective.” Roger said.  
“Oh, OOOH! We’re going to protest by not showing up to snub them! I can’t imagine how they’ll ever recover from having their noses bloodied like that.” Tim said.  
“You know you’re half right.” Roger said.  
“Woohoo!”  
“But that doesn’t make you not an idiot.” Mindy said.  
“Awww.”  
“We won’t show up, but you will, wearing a bomb!” Roger announced maliciously.  
“A what!?” Phil exclaimed  
“A bomb!” Roger said.  
“You can’t!” Mindy protested.  
“We can, and we will.” Roger said. “This may be our best opportunity to date. Think about it; the mayor, king of the puppets, will be there, obviously, but so will most of his cabinet. With that much puppet personnel in public, there will surely be loads of pigs guarding the place that we can take out with them. We may even get lucky if the new commandant shows up.”  
“Hang on. What do you mean by ‘get lucky,’ exactly?” Phil asked. “You aren’t suggesting we try to seduce the commandant, are you?”  
“Actually, that just might work.” Mindy said, considering it. “Phil has a certain svelte girlish figure to him. He could even pass for slightly attractive, in bad lighting.”  
“And what’s your plan to get the commandant to fall in love with me?” Phil scoffed. “Copious amounts of LSD?”  
“Of course not!” Mindy laughed. “It’d be MDMA.”  
“Well, if you think that would work…” Roger mumbled thoughtfully.  
“What? No, we are not giving the commandant drugs!” Phil protested. “I don’t even know where we’d get them.”  
“Oh, I can get you drugs. How much do you need?” John said.  
“No, er, none!” Phil said.  
“Really think you’re that good-looking on your own?” Mindy asked.  
“No!” Phil shouted. “I mean yes, but we’re not giving him drugs.”  
“A bomb it is then!” Roger declared. “Tim, Tom, Ted, you’ll all be heroes of the people! You’ll be remembered as martyrs for freedom for all time!”  
“Heroes you say?” Tim asked.  
“And martyr for freedom has a certain ring to it.” Ted added.  
“Do you even know what martyr means?” Mindy asked pointedly.  
“Well, not specifically, but from context I assume it means hero.” Ted said.  
“And you’re not wrong!” Roger cut in before Mindy could clarify the minute differences.  
“Wrong, no; idiot, yes.” Mindy hissed under her breath  
“Uh, I’m still not one hundred percent on blowing up people.” Phil stammered.  
“Glorious Leader, it’s for the greater good.” Roger coaxed.  
“You’re blowing up innocent people!” Mindy argued.  
“Innocent!?” Roger scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. Those ‘innocent’ people are collaborators, fascists, conspiring with your oppressors, working together to keep you in line.”  
“How can you say that!?” Mindy cried.  
“Mindy, trust me.” Roger said. “You know where my loyalties lie. And Glorious Leader, we may never get another chance like this to strike out against the oppressors.”  
“Don’t listen to him Phil.” She said. “The Provisional Government-”  
“Puppet government.” Roger interrupted.  
“-Provisional Government is a group of your fellow citizens, your friends and neighbours. They’re working with the occupiers, sure, but they’re working for you. They’re trying to mitigate and minimize suffering, for everyone. They don’t deserve to die.”  
“No one deserves to die!” Roger said, sounding more sympathetic now. “But if you want to make an omelette, you need -”  
“Cheese?” Tim butt in.  
“No.” Roger said. “You need to-”  
“It’s a crappy omelette if it doesn’t have cheese.” Tim grumbled.  
“You’re not allowed to talk anymore.” Roger snapped. “You need to br-”  
“I agree with Tim.” Tom interrupted.  
“What?” Roger said, turning.  
“An omelette without any cheese is scarcely an omelette.” Tom said.  
“We’re not talking about omelettes!” Roger shouted. “You just need to break-”  
“Me too!” Ted said. “A good omelette has cheese, and maybe little chunks of ham.”  
“Would you shut up!?” Roger shouted.  
“Hey, so like, I don’t want to pull rank or anything.” Phil said. “But I have to side with them on the omelettes.”  
“Why are you so hung up on the idea!?” Roger huffed.  
“Because they’re delicious!” Phil said with a smile. “They’re like a party in my mouth, except I’m invited.”  
“Well forget about that for the moment.” Roger said.  
“Easier said than done.” Ted said. “We’re talking about an omelette with ham and cheese here you know.”  
“Oh, and chives!” Tom added.  
“And shredded spinach leaves!” Tim jumped in.  
“Ooh, yeah, or crumbled broccoli florets?” Tom said, waggling a finger and licking his lips.  
“Yeah, and just a splash of milk to make it nice and fluffy!” Ted said.  
“AHHHHH!” Roger screamed. “No one’s making a goddam omelette!”  
“Well can someone?” Tim asked. “Because I would literally kill for a fluffy ham, cheese, and spinach omelette right now.”  
“Glad to hear it.” Roger said. “The morning you get your medals, I’ll treat you all to omelettes if you wear bombs for us.”  
“How about afterwards, to celebrate?” Ted suggested.  
“Sure.” Roger shrugged. “Saves me a few quid.”  
“What was that?” Tom asked.  
“Nothing.” Roger replied quickly  
“You do realize this is going to kill you?” Phil said, wishing to make sure the trio understood what they were getting into.  
“Oh.” Tom said meekly.  
“Um, is there anyway we could do this with the commandant dying and us not dying?” Tim asked.  
“I wish there were, but your sacrifice will be what people sing songs about!” Roger said.  
“Can I have some time to think about it?” Ted asked.  
“Of course.” Roger said. “That’s a great idea. Glorious Leader, why don’t you take some time to think about it too? Mull it over for a few days and get back to me. In the meantime, I’ll put in an order with our associates for three big bombs.”  
“Maybe hold off on that order?” Phil suggested.  
“I’m afraid I can’t.” Roger told him. “These will take time to build, and I’m sure in the end you’ll make the right decision.”  
“Well, I just don’t know about-” Phil began, but just then Father Richards burst in from upstairs.  
“I have communed with God, and he has spoken!” Father Richards declared theatrically. “Indulgences: half-off, today only! Buy one, get one free! Act now, because time is limited. Supplies are not, so buy all you can! Buy! Buy! Buy!” And before Phil could get another word out, the priest was swarmed by rebels, and that was the end of anyone paying attention to Phil.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dramatis Personæ_

Phil: nominal leader of the resistance, meeting some resistance  
Roger: actual leader of the resistance, fundamental extremist, vocal opponent of delicious omelettes  
Mindy: slightly more cautious than Roger, attitude towards omelettes unknown  
Father Richards: doing good and doing good business  
John: a “spy” who is very bad at his job  
Jeff: resistance’s personal shopper, firm believer in compromise  
Drumstick: head of tennis ball acquisitions  
Tim: would literally kill for an omelette  
Tom: would figuratively kill for an omelette  
Ted: desperate to become a martyr, desperately needs to look up what martyr actually means

Phil slept in the church’s basement that night, just as he had the previous night due to the unfortunate accident at the fruit stand, and he awoke early to the sounds of people shuffling about in the other room. He consulted the calendar with pictures of cats hanging on the far wall, and saw that it was Sunday. No wonder people were here so early. Don’t these people ever take a day off? Phil pulled on his robe, rubbed his eyes, and walked out into the other room to greet his followers. Roger and Mindy were there, naturally, as was John and a dozen or so other early-bird rebels. Phil was not a morning person. At least he figured it was morning. The basement had no windows by which to make an educated guess. Phil checked the clock instead. Yep, nine AM.  
“Good morning Glorious Leader!” They all spoke in unison and creeped Phil out immeasurably.  
“Please don’t ever do that again.” He requested.  
“Why not Glorious Leader?” Roger asked.  
“It really weirds me out,” Phil said. “But in a way I can’t quite put my finger in.”  
“Ew.” Mindy said.  
“Yeah, I know right?” Phil agreed.  
“Not that.” She said.  
“On.” Roger corrected.  
“On what?” Phil asked.  
“How about on topic?” Roger said. “Come to any conclusion on those bombs?”  
“Well, I, you see, how can I-” Phil mumbled.  
“Before you say anything.” Roger interrupted. “Father Richards just told me that he managed to pull some strings as a church leader and convinced the commandant and his C.O. to attend! Just imagine how big a blow that would be to the Ausnians if we wiped them both out in one fell swoop! Now, you were saying?”  
“Oh, yes, I was. Well, I guess I was talking, er, actually, I was thinking, and I was thinking that-” Phil resumed his stammering, but just then Father Richards ran back into the room waving his arms frantically.  
“Everyone, I’ve made a grave miscalculation!” Father Richards cried.  
“What, problem with the commandant and company?” Roger asked.  
“Are all our lives in danger or something?” Another resistance member asked.  
“No, but your immortal souls are!” Father Richards said. “I sold so many indulgences during last night’s sale, it flooded the market! The relative moral value of one indulgence has plummeted. By my calculations, everybody in this room needs to buy three times the number of indulgences they already have just to get back where they started from!” Again, everyone flocked to the man waving their money at him. Phil let out a small sigh of relief, thankful he could continue to think over the bombing.  
“We’re still good on bombing City Hall and the commandant though, yes?” Roger asked.  
“That’s still fine!” Father Richards shouted over the clamour surrounding him.  
“Oh, I need to go warn him, I mean, use the toilet.” John said, sniggering and looking around suspiciously before excusing himself. Phil was about to object, but shook his head. He also noticed that John had recently taken to wearing a suit jacket with a cheap dickie and clip-on bowtie to help sell his romantic fantasy. There came a whimpering noise and Phil looked to see Drumstick pawing at the door, begging to be let out.  
“Um, I think Drumstick needs to go out.” Phil announced.  
“I’ll take him.” Roger volunteered.  
“Think I’ll join you.” Phil said, putting on his robe and disguise glasses and straightening the moustache. “I could use breakfast.”  
“Me too!” Mindy jumped in. “I know a great little al fresco that allows pets on the patio.”  
With that, the four of them headed out, and Mindy led them to a charming cafe in the restaurant district. They placed their orders, and the waitress brought out a pitcher of coffee. Roger filled his mug, and Mindy let out a relaxed sigh.  
“This place is so nice, you could almost forget we’re under occupation.” She said.  
“Maybe you can.” Roger said bitterly. “I never want to forget that fact so long as there are Ausnian boots on my soil.”  
“Speaking of soil,” Phil said. “Does that plant look weird to you?” Roger and Mindy both turned to look at the topiary. It was an immaculately pruned shrub growing out of a giant terracotta pot.  
“Um, no?” Roger answered.  
“I just saw it move though.” Phil said. There was a short pause, followed by a muffled  
“Dammit.” Crazy Dave’s head burst out of the soil, wearing the tiny tree attached to a tin-foil lined helmet and camouflage face paint.  
“What are you doing here?” Roger asked.  
“And who are you?” Mindy added.  
“The name’s Crazy Dave.” He introduced himself to the lady. “And this is why I’m here.” He produced a folded newspaper from somewhere inside his pot and placed it on their table.  
“Heroic Citizens Repaint City Hall.” Roger read the headline aloud. “Yeah, we already know about that.  
“Woops, wrong side.” Crazy Dave said, flipping the paper over.  
“Wintrident toothpaste freshens breath and whitens teeth.” Phil read out the half-page advertisement. “Oh, fancy.”  
“Not that.” Crazy Dave hissed.  
“Oh no!” Roger exclaimed, reading the title. “Four Fingers Fireworks factory burns down! They were the ones building our, ahem, gifts for City Hall.”  
“Oh, so this is good news then.” Mindy said.  
“Only if you like being broke.” Roger snapped. “Four Fingers Fireworks is where all of the resistance’s money was stored!”  
“Why was our money in fireworks?” Phil asked.  
“They seemed like a non-volatile investment?” Roger shrugged, more asking than telling.  
“Fireworks didn’t seem volatile to you!?” Mindy seethed.  
“Well...metaphorically.” Roger said sheepishly. Mindy tipped his mug, spilling hot coffee in his lap, then placed a hand on the back of his head and slammed his face into the table.  
“Who could have done this?” Phil asked.  
“The icthyans!” Crazy Dave blurted eagerly.  
“Anarchists?” Mindy suggested, shooting Roger a glance.  
“Maybe someone in the puppet government was tipped off and decided to sabotage our plan.” Roger said suspiciously.  
“Well, no one from the Provisional Government’s claimed it.” Mindy said, scanning the article.  
“The occupiers?” Phil suggested.  
“Nope, no one’s claimed it.” Mindy said.  
“Hang on.” Phil said leaning over. “It says Red Flag has claimed it.”  
“Yeah but they claim everything.” Roger said dismissively.  
“Who are they?” Phil asked.  
“Oh, Red Flag is a terrorist cell that’s never actually done anything.” Roger explained. “They just act like they do, the poseurs. We’re the real ones! True, hot-blooded anarchists fighting for a cause!”  
“So then who did it?” Phil asked again.  
“Probably no one.” Mindy said. “They were sitting on literal tonnes of explosives.”  
“We can investigate this more later, but right now seeing as we’re suddenly out of money I think it’s time to run out on the check.” Roger pointed out, and the four of them made a quick exit, leaving Crazy Dave planted where he was.  
When Phil and his companions returned to the church, they found Father Richards staring at a blank section of the wall.  
“Is something wrong Father?” Roger asked.  
“Yes, horribly wrong!” Father Richards lamented. “This was where my fundraising thermometer used to hang. Now, nothing!”  
“That’s awful!” Phil sympathized.  
“Who could have done such a thing!?” Father Richards cried.  
“Eddie.” Mindy and Roger answered instantly and in almost perfect unison.  
“That was kind of a rhetorical question.” Father Richards said, slightly startled by the immediacy of their reply.  
“Was it really?” Mindy said flatly.  
“Who’s Eddie?” Phil asked.  
“Short answer, he’s a bit of a wild card.” Mindy said.  
“Long answer: he’s a thief, a con man, and a complete bastard.” Roger said.  
“And a narcissist.” Mindy added.  
“Yes, and a narcissist.” Roger said.  
“And a womaniser.” Mindy interrupted again.  
“Yes, he’s a womaniser, a bit of a con-man, and a Hell of a thief.” Roger said.  
“And he’s a-” Mindy started.  
“As far as we know…” Roger said loudly, cutting off Mindy so he could finish his description. “His luck ran out though when he tried to wet his beak.”  
“Blackmail?” Phil said, taken aback.  
“He prefers the term extortion.” Roger said, making no effort to deny the claim. “He burgled, conned, and groped his way across the free parts of our glorious nation of Uptonschtein, but after a while scores of police were hot on his tail. He fled here, to Upsington, because ironically it would be harder for the cops to catch him here in the police state.”  
“What, how?” Phil asked, confused.  
“Well the the bloody fascists don’t care about us robbing and killing each other, but they don’t want free armed forces crawling around.” Roger explained. “So Eddie would have been safe if he’d laid low.”  
“He didn’t though.” Mindy jumped in. “He started scamming the occupiers almost immediately.”  
“Being a brutally efficient force of suppression, they caught him almost immediately too.” Roger continued. “But he broke out.”  
“He broke out of an Ausnian prison!?” Phil exclaimed in equal amounts of awe and disbelief.  
“He broke out of an Ausnian prison twice.” Roger said. “The Ausnians aren’t idiots though; they recognised throwing him in jail was a waste of major talent, so the next time they caught him, they offered him a job spying on the puppet government’s actions, and he gladly took it.”  
“He took it right to the resistance.” Mindy said. “He offered to spy on the Provisional Government and the occupiers for us, so long as we made it worth his while.”  
“The way I see it, Eddie figured he could get rich playing all three parties off of each other and disappear by the time the dust settled.” Roger shrugged. “It seems though he saw a better opportunity.” Roger looked at where the fundraising thermometer used to hang.  
“So, I guess Eddie stole all the money and you had to take down the thermometer, Father?” Phil asked.  
“What? No!” Father Richards said. “Eddie, or whoever it was, just stole the thermometer.”  
“Then why are you so worried?” Phil asked. “He didn’t steal the actual money, just the poster. It’s nothing but a piece of paper representing the abstract concept of value.”  
“Well that describes cash and checks too!” Father Richards argued. “If we stop granting value to agreed upon documents, that’s how society falls apart. Do you want to destroy society, do you, you anarchist!?”  
“Well, no, I guess not.” Phil mumbled.  
“I do.” Roger said. “Smash the economy and its systemic oppression!” Mindy opted to smash Roger’s solar plexus instead.  
“Good to hear.” Father Richards spoke. “Now I need to go dispose of some disposable income.”  
“You do that.” Mindy said. “We’ve got to make an announcement to the group.” They headed down into the basement. Once Mindy had had gathered everyone’s attention, Phil was first to speak.  
“As your infinitely unqualified, equally reluctant, and yet somehow inexplicably duly appointed leader, I feel it is my unfortunate duty to inform you as noble members of the resistance and my comrades in arms…” Phil began.  
“Get to the freakin’ point!” Someone shouted, cutting him off.  
“...we’re broke.” Phil concluded.  
“Now if we want to drive out the fascist pigs we’re going to need to muster up some capital, and I’m open to suggestions so let’s hear some sharpish.” Roger jumped in.  
“Bake sale!”  
“Lemonade stand!”  
“Sexy car wash!”  
“Charity auction!  
“Sexy lemonade auction!” The various rebels began to cry out.  
“I’ve got the solution to your money problems.” A voice at the back rang out. “And I’m not talking about saline, if you catch my drift.” All fell silent as a short, dark-haired man strolled haughtily to the front of the crowd.  
“I’m sorry, you are?” Phil asked.  
“Name’s Eddie, Eddie Bastard also known as Yul Little: Upsington’s most distinguished gentleman thief.”  
“I’d never heard of you until five minutes ago.” Phil said bluntly.  
“Well I wouldn’t be a very good cat burglar if everyone known I’d done it, would I genius?”  
“What’s your plan to raise the money?” Mindy asked, growing impatient.  
“On the other side of town there’s a king’s ransom and a month’s rent just sitting in a glass case gathering dust.” Eddie said.  
“Wait, how is it gathering dust if it’s in a glass case?” Phil asked.  
“I think he means the case is gathering dust.” Tim offered.  
“No no, it’s just a figure of speech.” Tom corrected.  
“Wait, what’s a figure of speech?” Tim asked.  
“It’s a word or phrase used in a non-literal sense to add rhetorical force to a spoken or written passage.” Ted answered.  
“Look.” Eddie interrupted rubbing his temples. “In the Uptonschtein Royal Museum there’s the Ruby Celebration Necklace. It’s got a stone the size of my fist on a gold chain you could anchor a boat with. If I nick that, we’ll have more money than we can spend in ten rebellions. The only question remaining is what are we gonna fight in the other nine, you know what I mean? I just need a couple of partners and you can have the loot faster than you can say ‘she sells seashells’, so what do you say, besides the bit about about the shells?”  
“It’s up to you, glorious leader.” Roger said. “But I say go for it.”  
“How can you say that!?” Mindy said in shock. “That’s your country’s national treasure. Do you really want to rob your home of its heritage Phil?”  
“I remind you it will never be your country so long as the pigs set foot on its soil.” Roger said. “What good is treasure if it’s but a gilded cage?”  
“Hmmm.” Phil thought. “I say we steal the necklace, but I want to be there. It should be my responsibility.”  
“As you wish.” Eddie said grinning. Roger pulled Phil aside and whispered in his ear.  
“Be careful out there.” He said.  
“You don’t think Eddie can pull off this caper?” Phil asked.  
“I don’t doubt his ability, only his loyalty.” Roger said. “Eddie loves only three things: Money, himself, and women. Probably in that order. You’re none of them.”  
“You’re telling me, if you filled his pockets with gold and dropped him in the lake to drown, he wouldn’t drop trou to save his life?” Phil asked.  
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’d drop trou for any woman who could fog a mirror, but he’d carry that gold to his grave.” Roger told him.  
“Are you sure about that?” Phil pressed.  
“No.” Roger said. “I take back what I said about the mirror. If you’re not cautious, he’ll turn on you the first chance he gets.”  
“Do I have another volunteer?” Eddie asked. A few hands shot up from the crowd, and he picked the first one he saw. “Chris, you’ll do.”  
“Wait a moment!” Mindy interjected. “What’s in this for you Eddie?”  
“You’ll find out when the time comes.” He said mysteriously. “Just remember my help always comes with a price.”  
“How much?” Mindy asked.  
“Oh, it’s not about money.” He told her.  
“What is it then, my first born?” Roger asked. “Because you’re too late for that. Selling my first born isn’t the kind of mistake I make twice.”  
“What are you talking about?” Mindy asked Roger, completely confused by his outburst.  
“Don’t worry; I don’t want your snot-nosed spawn.” Eddies assured him.  
“Then what are you after?” Phil asked.  
“Just let me worry about that.” Eddie told him. “But you have my word as an honest con-man, it won’t cost you a cent.”  
“Then it’s decided.” Phil spoke. “Tonight, we steal the Ruby Celebration Necklace!”


	6. Chapter 6

_Dramatis Personæ_

Phil: infinitely unqualified, equally reluctant, and yet somehow inexplicably duly appointed leader  
Roger: constitutional anarchist  
Mindy: enjoys long walks on the beach, smooth jazz, and pulling the legs off spiders  
Father Richards: a kick in the assets  
John: a “spy” who is very bad at his job  
Jeff: holds local records for hedgehog juggling and high-speed acupuncture  
Drumstick: unimpressed with alternative al fresco restaurants  
Crazy Dave: topiary haberdasher  
Eddie: thief, con-man, bastard  
Chris Cross: he’ll do

That very night, Phil found himself atop the museum parking garage with Eddie and Chris, mere moments away from what would surely be the greatest caper in Uptonschtein’s inscrutable history. As Eddie made the final adjustments to his kit, he handed Chris the duffel bag with his grappling hook and coil of rope.  
“Throw this at the museum roof.” He whispered. Chris gladly obliged and threw the entire package over the edge of the garage at the museum.  
“Umm, I don’t think it made it.” He informed Eddie awkwardly. Eddie sighed with disgust.  
“If I didn’t need you later, I’d tell you to go get it and throw you off after it.” He threatened. “Now we’ll just have to improvise. Let’s see: four meter gap, two story drop, eight meter running start, and my good looks? Should be doable.” With that he backed up all the way to the other end of the roof, got a running start, and leapt from the edge across the gap, landing on the opposite roof with a perfect tuck and roll before springing back to his cat-like feet. Phil watched in amazement, then blanched as he realized he too would have to perform such a stunt. He turned to Chris.  
“You go on ahead. I’ll make sure we weren’t followed.” Phil stalled. Chris shrugged, then flawlessly repeated Eddie’s stunt. This comforted Phil somewhat. Surely if two people could pull it off, it couldn’t be that hard for a third, right? Wrong. Phil flew across the gap, flailing his arms spastically before landing face first on the gravel roof.  
“Time is money, Phil. And lying down on the job is just opportunity cost to me.” Eddie scolded him. “Get up.”  
“I think my ankle’s sprained.” Phil moaned.  
“Oh walk it off.” Eddie grunted as he approached the roof access door. In the blink of an eye, he had picked the lock faster than the average person could open it with a key. “We’re in!”  
The trio made their way through the atrocious security to the main atrium of the museum, where the necklace was on display. The room was otherwise empty, and the red jewel glittered temptingly in the moonlight streaming through the stained glass skylight. Phil stepped forward, but Eddie seized him before he could enter the room.  
“Not so fast!” He hissed. Then he produced from his bag a can of hairspray and a pair of night-vision goggles. He slipped on the goggles and sprayed a generous amount of the hairspray into the air. Thanks to the goggles, he saw the infrared beams scattering off the particles in the air.  
“Brilliant.” Phil marvelled in quiet awe.  
“Something I picked up in prison.” Eddie explained.  
“What, a tattoo?” Chris asked.  
“A tattoo? Pshaw!” Eddie scoffed. “You don’t slap a bumper sticker on a Ferrari.”  
“I wouldn’t put one on a shopping trolley either.” Chris muttered.  
“I’m sorry, what did you say you picked up in prison?” Phil asked, a bit confused by it all.  
“Chlamydia?” Chris guessed.  
“Nah, I already had that going in.” Eddie said.  
“Have you gotten tested?” Chris asked.  
“I went in for one once but my piss melted through the bottom of the cup before they could test it.” Eddie recalled. “They said the results were inconclusive.”  
“Well does it burn when you pee?” Chris asked.  
“No, but I can light my farts.” Eddie boasted.  
“That I have to see!” Chris cheered and turned to Phil. “Glorious Leader, have you got any matches?”  
“Can we just focus on completing the mission first?” Phil groaned meekly. He was met with silent nods of approval. Eddie alone slowly made his way through the labyrinth of lasers, spraying little puffs out as he went. At last, he arrived in front of the glass vault.  
“Five mil of multilayer bullet proof glass with temperature sensors and pressure triggers so sensitive every alarm in the building will go off if so much as a sparrow farts near it.” Eddie announced.  
“Can you get around it?” Phil asked.  
“Does this face drop knickers quicker than liquor?” Eddie said.  
“I wouldn’t know.” Phil said, completely unaware of what Eddie was getting at.  
“I can, but it’ll take every ounce of finesse I’ve got.” Eddie said thoughtfully. Then he smashed the case with a hammer, grabbed the necklace and bolted. “RUN!” He shouted.  
On his way past his dumbfounded colleagues, he hit Chris hard on the thigh with his hammer, charlie-horsing the would-be burglar. Guards would be converging on the scene any second, and Eddie was determined to escape, even if that meant leaving a fall guy in his stead. Phil looked down at the crippled Chris, then up at Eddie sprinting down the hallway, then back down at Chris. He couldn’t leave one of his own behind to get caught by the guards, but he couldn’t let Eddie escape with the prize either.  
“Stop!” He shouted at Eddie, but Eddie didn’t listen. Suddenly, he heard Roger’s words echo in his mind. Eddie loves only three things: money, himself, and women.  
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” Phil shouted. This stopped Eddie.  
“You won’t shoot me.” Eddie said coolly, beginning to slowly turn around.  
“Face the wall or I’ll shoot you right in the face!” Phil threatened. He couldn’t afford to let Eddie see he was completely unarmed. He made a finger gun though, possibly just to get into character better. It must have worked, since Eddie did as he was told. “Put the goods on the ground now.” Phil commanded, and Eddie obeyed. “Slide it back to me.” Eddie kicked the ruby back to Phil, who quickly scooped it up. Next he scooped up Chris, and the two caught up with their supposed partner.  
“You were going to leave us here to take the fall!” Phil said, not bothering to mask his umbrage.  
“No, just Chris.” Eddie said honestly. Just then a museum guard burst out from the side hallway, training his gun on the trio at point blank range.  
“Hands up!” The guard bellowed.  
“Quick, shoot him!” Eddie shouted at Phil.  
“I, uh, don’t actually have a gun.” Phil admitted.  
“Now you tell me.” Eddie sighed. Then he giggled.  
“What’s so funny?” The guard growled.  
“Oh, you’re about to get in hit in the back of the head.” Eddie said. The guard turned to see who was sneaking up behind him. Then Eddie cracked him on the back of the head with his hammer. The guard fell like a sack of minimum wage potatoes, and the trio ran out to freedom. On his way past though, Eddie scooped up the gun. Once they made it back to their hidey-hole in the basement of the museum parking garage, Eddie pointed the gun at Phil.  
“Now, you give me the ruby.” He sneered.  
“You won’t shoot me.” Phil said, trying to match Eddie’s tone from earlier.  
“In any other situation I would, just to demonstrate my resolve, but right now I don’t have to.” Eddie said. “Did Roger tell you how much the stone alone would fetch?”  
“Fifty thousand.” Phil answered. “Ten times what we lost in the factory explosion.”  
“And who do you know with that kind of money to pay for it?” Eddie asked, and no names came to Phil’s mind. “I’ll give you a hint then; only one man in the city can afford it.”  
“The commandant!” Phil exclaimed.  
“Perfectly correct.” Eddie said.  
“Isn’t there some other buyer we could sell to?” Phil asked. “Someone who isn’t our sworn enemy?”  
“Look Phil, if you want to get ahead in the criminal underworld, you can’t afford to worry about these things. They only complicate matters.” Eddie said. “Your principles, that is my price.”  
“There has to be another way.” Phil protested.  
“There isn’t.” Eddie told him. “Now how badly do you want this money? Is it worth your self-respect? Do you really want to sell your country’s treasures to its invaders?” Eddie asked. Again, Phil could not answer. Finally though, he handed the necklace back to the thief, and Eddie disappeared into the night.  
In the wee hours of the morning, Phil burst angrily through the door into resistance headquarters with Chris following close behind. Only Mindy, Roger, and Father Richards were present.  
“Where’s Eddie?” Roger asked.  
“When were you going to tell me that you were going to sell the ruby to the commandant!?” Phil demanded to know.  
“Phil, don’t be an idiot.” Mindy said. “We were never going to tell you.”  
“Where’s Eddie?” Roger asked.  
“Where’s the ruby?” Mindy asked.  
“I gave it to Eddie for safe keeping.” Phil said.  
“Where’s Eddie?” Roger asked.  
“You think Eddie will keep a valuable item safe?” Mindy scoffed.  
“Well, more just to keep it from the commandant.” Phil said.  
“Where’s Eddie?” Roger asked.  
“You were wrong about him dropping trou.” Phil told him.  
“What’s this about Eddie taking his pants off?” Mindy asked. “Actually, I’m not sure I want to know.”  
“Where’s Eddie!?” Roger shouted.  
“He’s hundreds of miles away from here by now!” Phil said triumphantly. “With the ruby safely in his clutches!”  
Just then the door swung open behind Phil, and in walked Eddie.  
“Hey guys.” He said nonchalantly, tossing Roger the necklace. “Here’s your ruby.”  
“What the actual heck!?” Phil screamed.  
“Oh, sorry.” Eddie said. “I had to make sure my replica was perfect before I sold it to the commandant.”  
“You made a fake?” Phil said in disbelief. “That’s great! Now we can return the real one to the museum.”  
“You’ll do no such thing!” Eddie snapped. “If the commandant ever finds out his is a forgery, he’ll demand his money back, and I want to stay out of hot water with my fence unless a Jacuzzi and a pair of babes are involved.”  
“Well at least we got the money.” Roger said.  
“What do you mean we?” Eddie asked. “I planned the heist. I stole the ruby. I fenced the goods. I did all the work. This money belongs to me.”  
“Well really it belongs to the museum.” Phil said.  
“I didn’t steal this loot fair and square just so some charitable thief like you could rob me.” Eddie huffed.  
“And what about my thermometer? Why’d you steal that then?” Father Richards asked pointedly.  
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” Eddie said.  
“Someone stole my fundraising thermometer.” Father Richards said.  
“Don’t pretend it wasn’t you.” Roger accused.  
“You have a very suspicious mind.” Eddie said. “In my experience only dishonest men think this way.”  
“In my experience, those who don’t tend to not live very long.” Roger replied.  
“You’ve killed them I suppose.” Eddie said. “Well I’m not sticking around long enough to be your next victim.” He stormed out.  
“The wicked flee where no man pursueth.” Father Richards muttered.  
“Roger?” Phil said.  
“Yeah Phil?”  
“I don’t think we’re getting that heist money.”  
“You don’t say.” Roger rolled his eyes, and Mindy slapped Phil upside the head.


	7. Chapter 7

Eddie, Mindy, Roger, and Phil walked Drumstick through the streets the next day in disguise. That is to say, Eddie, Mindy, Roger, and Phil were in disguise, not the next day, the streets, nor Drumstick; any of those would just be ridiculous. As Drumstick dutifully sniffed at every single fire hydrant, the rest of the crew discussed new ways to raise the money they were still so desperately in need of.  
“That bake sale didn’t sound all bad.” Phil suggested.  
“Nor did the sexy car wash.” Eddie added. “I know I’d pay good money to get a close-up look at Mindy’s soapy wet-” He didn’t finish his sentence though as he suddenly found Mindy’s fist competing to occupy the same space as his stomach. “Point taken.” He gasped, clutching his guts.  
“Why don’t we just get jobs?” Mindy offered instead.  
“No, that’ll never happen.” Roger said. “If I could get a job I wouldn’t be an anarchist.”  
“Have you ever thought maybe your lack of employability isn’t the government’s fault?” Mindy remarked.  
“Oh I’ve thought about it; I just like blaming some nebulous malevolent overseer instead of taking personal responsibility.” Roger explained. “Plus, what would the other members of the anarchist society think? They’ll probably demote me three ranks in the hierarchy just for having this conversation. We have strict rules you know. I was planning on running for local vice-chapter-head, but that’s all shot now. Why can’t Mindy get a job?”  
“I’m a Lutheran.” She said.  
“So?” Phil said.  
“It’s the Sabbath.” She replied.  
“No, that was yesterday.” Roger pointed out.  
“Oh don’t split hairs!” She scolded him. “Crusades were started over less and where did that get us?”  
“Jerusalem?” Phil said.  
“What?” Mindy asked. “Actually nevermind. What about Eddie?”  
“Gee, I’d love to, but I can’t get hired since I got sacked from my last job.” Eddie said.  
“For what, stealing office supplies?” Mindy asked.  
“No, I slept with the boss’s sister.” Eddie said.  
“Blimey, he’s vindictive.” Roger remarked.  
“No wait, it was his wife.” Eddie corrected.  
“That’s entirely different Eddie!” Mindy said.  
“Oh please, that marriage was already over, bar the shouting.” Eddie dismissed. “I don’t think he would have minded so much if we hadn’t done it on his desk.”  
“Yeah, that would do it.” Roger nodded.  
“In retrospect, we probably should have waited for him to leave the room first.” Eddie mused. “Besides, I can’t go back to work anyway; I’m a stay-at-home mother now.”  
“You can’t be a mother Eddie; you’re a man.” Phil sighed.  
“And what’s that got to do with the colour of orange juice?” Eddie asked.  
“Um.” Phil said. “It’s just that men can’t be mothers.”  
“Ugh!” Eddie said with disgust. “And what is that supposed to mean!? Are you saying men can’t be just as capable parents as women? Or are you saying women are in some biological way meant to stay in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant their entire life!? You sexist pig!”  
“What? No! I was just-” Phil stammered.  
“Just thinking you’re somehow superior to another gender!?” Mindy accused. “Here’s my counter evidence:” And then she kneed him in the groin.  
“Fascist!” Roger shouted. “You know it’s people like you with your antiquated gender roles that really make me glad to be an anarchist. Smash the systems of oppression!”  
“Fine, fine, I’ll get a job!” Phil squeaked. “Just stop accusing me of things.” Suddenly Drumstick began tugging on the leash. “Hey what’s that?”  
The group strolled over to the telegraph pole that Drumstick was pulling Roger toward.  
“Oh no.” Phil said meekly. The four of them stood staring at four posters of themselves, wanted posters specifically.  
“Hey, why is the bounty on me only half of Phil’s!?” Roger said, taken aback.  
“Well it makes sense; he is our leader.” Mindy pointed out.  
“Easy for you to say. You’ve got an extra fifty quid on you.” Roger said. “That’s blatant sexism it is! Someone call the pigs; I demand an equal shake!”  
“Uh, guys, I don’t think having wanted posters out for us is a good thing.” Phil tried to interject.  
“Speak for yourself money bags.” Roger snorted.  
“Yeah, some of us have don’t have the luxury of being worth as much as-” Mindy started.  
“Holy crap look at Eddie’s mug!” Roger shouted.  
“He’s worth three times the rest of us put together!” Mindy gasped. “What gives!?”  
“I’ve got enemies.” Eddie said, looking around shiftily.  
“Yeah, rich ones.” Roger scoffed.  
“Hang on, I’m getting an idea.” Mindy spoke.  
“Don’t strain yourself.” Eddie jibed.  
“Look here.” Mindy told him, pointing to the fine print. When he leaned in close to read it, Mindy slammed his head on the pole. “Now let’s sell Eddie. Do you think they’ll take him in parts, or is this more of a wholesale affair?”  
“Well we could always hack off something he doesn’t need like a pelvis and see what we get for it.” Roger suggested.  
“We’re not selling anyone!” Phil protested.  
“Well, I believe true friends are as rare and as valuable as gold and should be treated as such.” Eddie spoke, and Phil felt a warming in his heart. “Sell them out to the highest bidder at the first opportunity for cash-money.” Phil’s heart quickly returned to its normal temperature.  
“I’m glad you agree.” Mindy said. “Because soon you’re going to make us a lot of money.”  
“Oh crap.” Eddie said flatly, realizing he’d somehow volunteered to be the merchandise.  
“Think about it.” Mindy said. “We can get two and a quarter grand for handing you over to the occupiers, but you’ve broken out of their prisons twice before. We make the trade, we’re laughing all the way to the bank, and you’re home for tea. Everybody wins.”  
“Everybody but the occupiers.” Phil pointed out.  
“Added bonus.” Roger grinned.  
“Yes.” Eddie said. “But I want half.”  
“Five hundred.” Mindy said.  
“A grand, at least.” Eddie haggled.  
“Five hundred, and not a dime more.” Mindy said sternly.  
“Fine, seven fifty and I’m taking a loss, final offer.” Eddie said. He and Mindy held each other’s hard stares for what seemed to Phil like an eternity.  
“Deal.” Mindy said, shaking Eddie’s hand.  
Later that night, Phil was with Roger, Mindy, and over twenty other rebels planning their spending and upcoming expenses when he was approached by Eddie.  
“Hey Phil.” He said.  
“Hi Eddie. Problem?” Phil asked.  
“I think I come up with a way of getting the money from the Ausnians without me having to go through the hassle of breaking out of jail again.”  
“How exactly would that work?” Phil asked.  
“Simple.” Eddie said. “They bring the money, and you bring me. They hand you the cash, but just when it seems like you’re going to turn me over, I pull on a gun on you because I don’t want to go. You pull a gun on me in self-defense, and they pull a gun on you, because they don’t want you to kill the person they just spent two grand for. You aim at them now, and I switch sides by pointing at them too, since they won’t risk shooting me. I demand they drop their guns or I’ll shoot, and it’s not like they’ll fight back if you’ve still got the money. If I had it, maybe, since they could shoot me and take the money back, but I make them drop their guns first. Then you hand me the cash, and we make a safe break for it money in hand. Simple.”  
“That sounds lavishly complicated.” Phil said, still trying to wrap his head around the intricate scheme.  
“I call it a Mexican hand-off.” Eddie said.  
“One problem:” Mindy said. “We don’t have any guns.”  
“That does throw a bit of a spanner into the works.” Eddie mused.  
“Besides, our Glorious Leader won’t be the one making the exchange.” Roger said. “It’ll be me and John.”  
“John?” Eddie said, confused.  
“Yeah, we spies are just connected like that, you know?” John said. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it, someone really interesting and cool.”  
“Oh, crap!” Mindy exclaimed. “You’re supposed to make the hand-off in twenty minutes.”  
“Nobody panic, I’m cool as a cucumber and I got it all under control.” Eddie said. “I moved the clock forward an hour for daylight saving time this morning.”  
“But, er, daylight saving isn’t for another three months.” Phil pointed out.  
“Then we’d better make like pinata and beat it!” Eddie shouted.  
“Quick, to the parking lot!” Roger said. “We’ll take Father Richard’s car!”  
“We can’t!” Eddie said. “I already took it this morning!”  
“Well where’d you take it!?” Mindy asked.  
“Barry’s.” Eddie replied.  
“Who’s Barry?”Phil asked.  
“My scrap dealer.” Eddie said. “I got a few hundred quid up front for it.”  
“You know the rules, Eddie.” Roger said. “If you lose the car, you become the car.”  
“Oh fine, hop on!” Eddie instructed, and Roger and John jumped on his back as he ran out.  
“You better not get a scratch on him!” Mindy shouted after them. “The Ausnians might pay less for damaged goods!”  
“Eddie’s been damaged for years.” Father Richards said, walking in from the other room.  
“Sadly he’s in perfect condition.” Mindy said. “He’s just terrible by design.”  
“You know what else is terrible?” Father Richards said.  
“War?” Mindy said.  
“Disease?” Tim said.  
“Brussel Sprouts?” Phil said.  
“Eternal damnation.” Father Richards answered his own question.  
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a sermon.” Mindy rolled her eyes.  
“No, I’ve got a sale!” Father Richards announced. “I’ve created new indulgences. I call them: New Indulgences©! These have a fixed moral value, and thus are impervious to deflation which crashed the market last time. Since these are more stable though, they will cost twice as much.” People looked around. “But what’s a little money to save your everlasting soul!? You can’t take it with you.” The crowd swarmed him in another buying frenzy.


	8. Chapter 8

Roger and John returned without Eddie in the wee hours of the following morning. The only rebels still remaining at the base were Phil and Father Richards, who had taken up residency, and Mindy, who stayed of her own accord.  
“You’re back!” Mindy shouted, waking Phil to their arrival. “Did you get the money?”  
“About that.” Roger started.  
“Oh dear.” Phil murmured.  
“The pigs lowballed us.” Roger said. “They gave us two grand and told us to bugger off or they’d nail our heads to the concrete. Bloody fascists!”  
“They weren’t kidding either.” John added. “I’ve seen them do it.”  
“The thieves!” Roger fumed. “Eddie was my personal property to sell!”  
“But you told me that all people are equals and that property is theft.” Phil said.  
“Calling Eddie ‘people’ is generous.” Mindy said.  
“Well I didn’t mean my property!” Roger said. “I worked hard to get what I have, and then you’ve got the fascists in control running around, taking what’s not theirs and giving it away to shiftless moochers! It’s no wonder my monthly grant from the dole is so small! Things were never this bad before the Ausnians rolled in.”  
“But the Ausnians were the ones who created the dole.” Mindy pointed out.  
“True, things were considerably worse before they showed up, but they were never exactly this bad.” Roger said. “It’s the principle of the thing.”  
“Speaking of principal, let’s see that two grand.” Mindy said.  
“Well, you see, we did get two grand from the pigs, but…” Roger trailed off nervously as Mindy began to crack her knuckles.  
“We got held up by anarchists on the way back.” John finished for him.  
“Anarchists?” Phil said. “I thought you were an anarchist Roger.”  
“Well, there are different factions.” Roger began to explain. “There’s the UAC: Upsington Anarchist Collective, the UAS: Upsington Anarchist Society, the ASU: Anarchist Society of Upsington, the other UAC: Upsington Anarchist Cell, the UASU: Upsington Anarchist Society of Upsington, the the UASA: Upsington Anarchist Society of Anarchists, and DTBJGQ: the Upsington Coalition of Illiterate Anarchists. Those are most of the major ones at any rate.”  
“I never thought there were so many people fighting the government.” Phil said in awe.  
“And you were right.” Roger said. “They’re too busy fighting themselves.”  
“Really!?”  
“Of course, they all hate each other!” Mindy exclaimed.  
“But don’t they realize that if they all banded together they could overthrow the occupiers?” Phil reasoned.  
“That’ll never happen.” John said dismissively. “There will always be exactly as many cells as people who want to be their own commanders with their own little private society. If any of them were remotely able serve under someone else they wouldn’t be anarchists in the first place.”  
“He’s right.” Roger said. “All those petty little factions need to get over themselves and realize my society is the one true anarchist society. After all, we are the only ones with a defined form of self-government and a charter with formalized rules.”  
“You do realize-” Phil began to point out before Mindy interjected.  
“Don’t bother.” She said. “Willful ignorance is an anarchist’s specialty.”  
“Well what society are you in?” Phil asked, genuinely curious.  
“The UAS.” Roger said. “Or is it the ASU? Blimey, it’s so hard to keep track of these days. Every faction keeps splitting up as others form.”  
“So you know you hate the UAC, the UASU, the other UAC, the SNAFU, and the ABC’s, but you don’t even know which one of those you are?”Phil asked, astonished.  
“Absolutely.” Roger said. “We spend so much time fighting each other we’re practically doing the pigs’ work for them.” He laughed with a snort. “It’s for the best though.”  
“How so?”  
“Well it’s a lot safer for one.” Roger told him. “Why risk robbing the fascists when you can just rob the next cell over? They’re not as well supplied, but they’re a much easier target who we hate just as much.”  
“And now one of those alphabetical resistances has our money!” Mindy fumed.  
“Could we wait until it splits up, then rob them right back when they’re weakened?” Phil proposed, not a terrible idea in theory.  
“No, that faction will never split up.” Roger shook his head.  
“How do you know that?” Phil asked.  
“Well it’s just got the one member.” John spoke.  
“So is there any money left?” Mindy asked, shaking her head with disappointment.  
“A little.” John answered.  
“Fifteen hundred.” Roger said.  
“I guess fifteen hundred quid isn’t so bad.” Phil said, trying to remain positive.  
“Fifteen hundred p.” John clarified.  
“I see.” Mindy said, eyes narrowing. “Roger, turn around and bend over.”  
“What, in front of Phil and John?” Roger said. “Kinky.”  
“Take a step forward.” Mindy instructed. “Yes, John should really learn what I do to failures.”  
“Wait, what!?” Roger asked right before Mindy began repeatedly slamming his head in the door.  
“By the way.” John said to Phil and handed him a newspaper. “Check this out.”  
“Panel of Dentists Assembled to Investigate Claims made by Wintrident Toothpaste.” Phil read the headline. “Huh, you just can’t trust anyone these days.” Phil shook his head.  
“I know right!?” John said. “Heck, even I’m working for the Aus...triches. The ostriches. Because I’m so cool and great, right.”  
“Page three!” Roger said, having been at last released from the door frame by Mindy. “Think I’ll lie down for a bit.” And he collapsed where he stood as Phil flipped to the third page.  
“Commandant’s Family to Visit?” Phil asked, confused.  
“We can kidnap them and hold them hostage until the occupiers pull out.” Roger groaned from his place on the floor.  
Seven hours passed, and by late morning all the rebels who would be in attendance that day had gathered in their usual place in the church basement. Roger took the podium.  
“We’re going to break into the palace, kidnap the new commandant’s daughter, and hold her hostage until the Ausnians leave Upsington!” He announced theatrically.  
“It was Eddie’s idea.” John said. “Although the specific phrase he used was ‘hold her to ransom’.”  
“We had a bit of a disagreement as to what ends she would be used, yes.” Roger acknowledged.  
“Oh. Um, how did you say you were going to kidnap her? And also how you’d be getting into the palace?” Tim asked.  
“We’re going to sneak in as a troupe of performers.” Mindy answered. “Magicians specifically. John’s already snuck us into the monthly calendar.”  
“How?” Tom asked.  
“Oh, I’m a spy. I do cool things like that, but you know, it’s no big deal for someone like me, really.” John answered.  
“Um, who’s we?” Phil said nervously.  
“You, me, Harvey over there.” Mindy pointed at large man standing in the corner. He gave Phil a friendly wave. “We need one more person though. Someone who can really present to a crowd.”  
“I once took an acting class!” One resistance member announced histrionically. He stood up and dramatically waved his finger like he’d just discovered a large spider on the end of it.  
“Really?” Phil asked.  
“Yeah, I took a seminar at the library after the bar burned down.”  
“Then it’s settled.” Mindy announced. “Phil, me, Harvey, and Ronnie.” Just then, there came three knocks on the door, and everyone found their nominal hiding places.  
“Father Richards!” Phil shouted up through the floor. “Door!”  
“Oh, he’s not in today.” Mindy informed him from her hiding place behind Harvey, who had draped himself in a tablecloth. Phil sighed then sat in the folding chair next to the door, keeping one eye on the clock. Once the requisite amount of time had passed, Phil opened the door and let in Jeff, who had just returned from the Costume Palace with the latest set of outfits.  
“Jeff, what took so long?” Roger asked.  
“I had to stop at the AMT.” He said.  
“The what?” Phil asked.  
“Automatic teller machine.” Jeff clarified. “Sorry, I have OCD. It compels me to arrange all three letter abbreviations alphabetically.”  
“But you just said OCD in the correct order.” Phil pointed out.  
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m also dyslexic.” He dumped the bags on the floor, showing them what he’d purchased. There was a suit jacket and pants with matching bowtie and dickie, a sequinned pink leotard, and a giant rabbit fur-suit with rubber nose. Harvey grabbed the fur-suit, and Mindy took the three-piece.  
“Oh, I thought I was supposed to be-” Phil began, but Mindy cut him off with naught but a blank stare. “Nevermind.” Phil said dejectedly. He held up the remaining costume. “Are you sure this will be enough of a disguise?” He asked.  
“I could run out again, pick up a couple of grapefruits and a blonde wig.” Jeff offered.  
“I’ll just wear the glasses.” Phil said quickly.  
“We also need guns.” Roger said.  
“I’d rather not shoot anyone if it’s all the same to you.” Phil said meekly, uneasy about the thought of killing.  
“Hopefully we won’t have to.” Mindy said. “The guns are just for intimidation, you see.”  
“Which is good, because we don’t actually have any.” Roger said.  
“Yeah, you’d almost think high-powered killing tools would be kept under strict control in an occupied state.” Mindy rolled her eyes.  
“We’ve got these instead.” Jeff said, pulling a blanket off a small table in the corner and revealing half a dozen shiny black objects. They kinda looked like guns. Phil picked one up to examine it and quickly discovered the objects were nothing more than water pistols that had been rubbed with black shoe polish until they took on a crude likeness to a firearm.  
“I really hope it doesn’t come to shooting.” Phil sighed. “Are you really sure your plan will work?”  
“Of course it will.” Roger said. “Everyone loves magicians.”

**Author's Note:**

> The entirety of this work is available for kindle/ebooks at Amazon. To comply with AO3 guidelines, I cannot provide a link to the page here, but I can direct you to my Twitter, @purpleskull14. The link to my Amazon page is available there. Or Just Google my name, since it's the first result.


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